BRAVE

Today I took care of the lovely Sarah. I have had her several times in the past, including the day of her diagnosis. Her parents love to brag about how smart she is, and I love to listen! Before diagnosis, she would compete in math competitions... and win!

She is usually a very quiet girl, but today her friends came to visit... Which led to jamming out to this song.

Honestly, I want to see you be brave

Before I left the room, her mom leaned over and whispered to me that this was her theme song ... it made me love the song even more!

#wrongbutton

Tonight as I was taking care of a seven month old baby, I accidently dropped the mobile (the contraption that hangs over the crib) on top of his head, causing him to burst in to tears.

Just sign me up for nurse of the year! crap....

A Change in Perspective

It's been three weeks now since I got that late night phone call from my Dad to tell me that Dallin had been in a car accident. He told me that he had been flown to Mckay-Dee Hospital where he was intubated and currently in a coma. It's times like those that make you realize that the things that you thought were important, actually don't matter at all!

Luckily I didn't have work the next day, so I got up early and drove to Ogden to see him. Not long after I had gotten there, the nurse came in the room to infom the family and I that the that ICU doc wanted to have a care conference.  We walked into a seperate room where we all sat down. The doctor and nurse came in shortly after. For the next twenty minutes, I will not only learn something so completley invaluable to my care as a nurse, but will also remember it as the worst twenty minutes I have yet to experience.

I have sat in on several care conferences held with families as they are being told that their child has cancer. Probably one of worst possible news any parent can get. I have witnessed the "deer in headlights" look countless times; grown men break down in tears; mothers sobbing.

       But .... I have never once been on the recieving end.

As we all sat in that small, confined room, the ICU doc kept repeating over and over again,
                     
       "shearing is the worst possible brain injury"
       "He'll never be the same again"
       "The old Dallin is gone"
       "this is really bad"
       "this is really bad"
       "this is really bad"

As I looked around the room, I saw the same look of terror that I have seen so many times before, but this time it was different. This time it was my own family experiencing it.

It's difficult to explain what it felt like sitting in that room. The longer I sat there, the more I felt life being drained from me. I have never felt such an utter sickness inside me.  It seemed the longer he talked, the worse it got.  I understand that he had to tell us exactly what was going on, but the way he said it made me feel like he didn't really care; this was just a job for him and in just a few short hours he would be going home. Because of this, it made me want to distance myself from him. I no longer made eye contact with him or cared to give him a pitty laugh when he attempted at making a joke. And then I noticed the nurse. What was she doing? How was she reacting to this awful news of her patient? What I saw was someone who had stepped out of her professional role. She no longer was a strong advocate who genuinly cared for the well being of her patient and family. Instead it seemed she made more of a point to flirt and laugh with the doctor as he "attempted" to lighten the mood. Frankly, she annoyed the Hell out of me. What I learned from this experience is what NOT to do. What we needed at that time, was someone who genuinely cared.

I know it can take years for anyone, not just a nurse or doctor, to know exactly what to say and how to say it during those difficult times. In the short time that I've been a nurse, I allready feel like I've had to "grow up" and have conversations with either a patient or parent about the hard things of cancer. But my perspective has changed now that I've been on the recieving end.

I learned from this experience that my job isn't just "shift work". For the twelve hours that I'm at the hospital, I can't be there just for the paycheck, but I'm caring for real families that need someone who genuinely cares for not only the patient, but for the entire family!

Are you a Fighter?

Six months?! Allready?

Yes, it's true. I have been doing the freezing weather/too many mormons/TV watching(I finally have cable)/and long distance phone calls for exactly six months! Several people have asked me "are you still glad you moved? you can tell me the truth". First of all, I dont know why they think I would lie to them (ahem, Janalee). And secondly, yes I am glad I moved. I dont think I could live here forever, but for now, it's going pretty darn good.

This also marks six months at Primary Childrens. I thought that when I transfered that it would be an easy transition, given that I stayed in the exact same area. But oh was I wrong! Of course I knew that the technical stuff would be different and the whole culture of it would be different, but I was not expecting the many differences in the actual care of the patient. I won't get in to the details because that could get dreadfully boring for all the non-health care workers reading this (mick, I'll call you later) but I do feel that it's been a benefit to my "nursing practice" by seeing the methods of what each hospital does and why. But no matter where I work, the patients continue to teach me new things!

Yesterday, I took care of a young girl that immediatly reminded me of a previous patient that I had taken care of.  But it wasn't so much the patients themselves that were similar, it was more of how I reacted to both of them that was the same.

The first patient was a teenage boy that carried a VERY rare genetic disorder that predisposed him to cancer with a poor prognosis.  This disorder not only effected him, but the rest of his family. By the time I knew him, his mother had allready passed away from breast cancer, his brother had passed away from osteosarcoma, and his sister was currently in a different hospital fighting cancer herself.



The only family he had left was his grandma, who rarely visited.

Does anyone else feel like their "problems" just disappeared?

I thought, "How do I approach him? How will he react to me? closed off? depressed?" But instead, something happened that was quite the opposite.

EVERYTIME I did something for him, no matter how big or small it was, he ALWAYS replied with
                                        
                                             "Thank You"

I was his nurse for a straight three days that week and many times after, and he never once failed to be grateful.

My other patient was a young girl that I took care of yesterday.  She was sassy with attitude! Ms. drama queen! But I liked her for it! She was getting ready to be discharged home, when they decided to do a routine MRI before she left. The results showed that the tumor she had in her brain was actively bleeding causing too much pressure in her head. She immediatly went to surgery. The surgery went suprisingly well, given the bad circumstances. But it resulted in severe right sided weakness.

Right after returning from surgery, her mom left to run errands (ummmmm, ya). Luckily my other kids

weren't very busy, so I was able to spend a lot of time helping her with the most basic of tasks. And just like the young boy, each time I did something, no matter how small it was, she always replied with

                                                "Thank you"

It wasn't until later when I stepped back to notice, that in each case I had a stronger desire to do my very best for them.  I spent more time in their room making sure they had everything they needed, carried on longer conversations with them. Anything they wanted, I got for them. Icecream for breakfast? Totally ok. They had me wrapped around their finger!

Both of them taught me a whole new perspective on not to just be grateful, but to be grateful despite the hardest of circumstances. They did not cry, complain, lash out, or with draw, though they had every excuse to do so, and yet, they still did not. I have been working in this area for over two years now, and I can honestly say that the kids that  FIGHT to live, generally DO live!  I have seen it over and over again! I hope I never have to experience cancer the way these kids have, but whatever comes my way, I hope that I will have the same fight in me that I have seen first hand in them!

"Fight the good fight with faith" - unknown

Swearing

When I look back on my childhood, I can't remember a single time ever hearing a swear word being said at home, literally. (Go Mom and Dad!).  Though despite my parents hard work, I became very familiar with every 4-letter word as I frequently played at the Isaacsons (naturally). I quickly learned that the twins had a love/hate relationship with ESPN.

Since becoming an "adult", I swear a lot more often.  For some odd reason, that one little word will keep me from dramatically collapsing on the floor in pain after stubbing my toe. It just feels good. Enough said.

I went on a blind date a few weeks ago and I "accidentally" swore twice. But really, I was just testing the waters to see if it bothered him. (weird dating criteria?! probably)

But when it comes to the hospital, there is this unwritten rule, that you just-don't-swear. Especially working with kids! And I am proud to say that my record is squeaky clean! Not long ago I trained a new graduate nurse. She always did a good job, but when it came to high stressful moments, she just plain out, couldn't handle it.  Without fail, she would swear and start crying. Even in front of the patient and family. After a few times I finally told her she needs to watch her mouth (politely, or course). Which only made her cry more. I felt bad a first, but after her third break down, I stopped caring. ( I really am a nice trainer, I swear).

I may be able to control my mouth when something goes wrong, but that doesn't mean that a real of swear words aren't going off in my head.

For Example: when...

• I'm doing a sterile dressing change and my patient hits my tray over (this was a baby, in case you were wondering).
• My kids' tubing getting caught on the bathroom handle, forcing a disconnection, causing chemo to fly in the air.
• Slipping and falling on a newly mopped floor. (yes, it happened)
• Chemo infiltrating at the port site. (going in to the skin, not the bloodstream)
• Walking in to find my kid throwing up after giving him oxycodone on an empty stomach. (woops! my bad)
• My kid reacts 5 minutes into starting a blood trasnfusion.
• I have to bag my 20 day year old baby in the hallway on my way to XRay.

The list could go on and on. But I remember one of my instructors in nursing school taught us that a good nurse can always remain calm and collected, despite her ... freaking-out, holy-crap, now-what-am-I-going-to-do?! ... emotions, NO MATTER the crisis, if only for the sake of the family.

Good lesson. Now if only I can apply that to my dating life.

Reality Check

The other day as I was driving to work, I was talking on the phone with my mom.  We talked about Zachary and his injured ankle. The fact that he may have to wait to serve a mission in order for his ankle to heal. We discussed how difficult of a trial this has been, not only for him, but us as a family as we have watched him go through this; supporting him in anyway we could. Why couldn't the surgery have worked? Why couldn't this have happened AFTER he returned home from his mission? Shouldn't all righteous desires be rewarded? But with no real answers to these questions, I had to end the conversation since I had arrived at the hospital.

As I walked on to the floor, my focus changed to "work mode". I hung my coat up on the rack, put my lunch in the fridge, and took my pen and paper with me, ready to start my next 12 hours. After receiving report from the previous nurse, and planning out my day, I went to meet my patients. The last room I walked into, I found a young man, laying in bed. He had a bald head with no eyebrows, sunken eyes, and wearing a hospital gown. His wonderful mom sat on the couch next him. This snapshot picture is not uncommon for me to see. It's actually quite normal. 

But this time, it was different.

As I spoke with him and his mom, thoughts raced through my head. As soon as I left the room, I raced to the computer, eager to read his full history.

• He is 19 years old
• A star athlete in high school, particularly basketball
• Youngest of 5 kids
• 6' 5"

Sound familiar?

He was diagnosed with a form of blood cancer 2 years ago. After a year of treatment, he went into remission. Due to his recent good health, he was allowed to serve a mission and was called to Peru. But just weeks before leaving, he started coughing, and felt fatigued. It made his mom nervous, so she quickly took him to the doctor where they drew blood. The results showed that the cancer had returned.

They immediatly started chemo.

As I sat at my desk, I realized, that less than hour ago, I was complaining and second guessing. I was
frustrated and sad.  Asking why, why, why?

but now?

Everything changed.

Favorite Things

So I recently moved to Utah ( in January?! ya, I don't know what I was thinking!) And in that small amount of time, Utah has lived up to its reputation. The reputation being that any boy with a mobile phone at hand, will in fact ask out any eligible girl ( no matter the height difference) with in walking distance, just following a talk given on marriage. (yes, it happend) And with that, comes the follow up date that includes the awkward side hug, then the forced conversation, which eventually leads to .... the dreaded question. I hate this question. I have yet to go on a date where I have not been asked it. And that question is, "So what made you want to be a nurse?" And most "good" nurses would respond and say "oh, I just love helping people" or "I wanted to do something that I knew would make a difference". But I on the other hand, did not. My real thoughts on wanting to be a nurse were, "they get paid pretty good right?" and "only work three days a week?! Sign me up!" Sadly this is the truth, but how do I tell a guy this who is measuring me up to see if I qualify to be his wife and mother of his children? ( ok, so that's a little dramatic, but whatever).  So instead I respond and say "to tell you the truth, I have no idea, but it has been the best decision I ever made!"

After having this conversation numerous times lately, I've been thinking, why do I really love what I do? After a lot of thought I came up with 2 reasons. That may not sound like much, but they both encompass a lot.

Favorite Thing #1: At the end of the day, when I go say goodbye to my pateint and their family, and the parent asks me, "are you back tomorrow?" This may seem like nothing, but to me this tells me that the parents (who can sometimes be difficult to please) trust me. They trust me taking care of their precious child during the most difficult/stressful time of theirs lives. They trust me enough, that they want me back the next day, to do it all over again!

Favorite Thing #2: On the patients last day of chemo, the day they are leaving the hospital and hopefully never to return, everyone on the floor gathers around and sings them this song.

Our patients have the cutest S M I L E
Our patients have the sweetest H E A R T
We love to see you everyday
But now its time we get to say
Pack up your bags, get out the door
You dont get chemo anymore!

While we sing the song, the patient is generally dancing and smiling from ear to ear, while the mom is both laughing and crying all at the same time. After the song, the child gets to ring this large bell for the whole floor to hear. One time, a little boy who had a form of bone cancer and had his leg removed, he took off his prosthetic and hit the bell with it. Everyone cheered!
This is my favorite thing because we get to see that the Hell we put them through, it actually does work! And then .... they get to finally go HOME!